


Once in a Lifetime

by dreamlittleyo



Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Angst, Driving, Fast Cars, First Kiss, M/M, bad idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 18:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5753728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just can't shake a bad idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once in a Lifetime

They start driving at sunset. No real direction, no purpose except to put everything— _everything_ —behind them for a while. The bright orange and pink of the sky is distracting, but they gun their engines anyway, nosing for the advantage. Not racing really—that's not what this is about—but teasing and challenging each other, keeping it interesting. Dom lets Brian take the lead mostly, but only enough to let Brian think he's earned it. Only enough so that Dom catches the wide, smug grin on Brian's face when their cars are side-by-side again in the last of the fading sunset.

They drive through the dark after that, headlights bright against the empty countryside. They don't bother with their high beams, but they don't need them. There's plenty of moon above, and they're far enough from the nearest city now that even the starlight helps soften the black pitch of night. They drive more carefully with the sun gone, but they still nudge for the advantage every inch of the way.

When Brian slows almost to a stop, Dom does the same even though they're in the middle of nowhere. He follows Brian's taillights off the main road, down to a gravel lot barely visible from the road. There's nothing but farm fields surrounding the low ground, wheat and corn and some crop that grows closer to the ground. Dom can't get a good look from where he parks behind Brian, both cars sidled right up to the edge of the gravel.

Dom leaves his car door open when he steps into cool midnight. Brian has already hopped up onto the trunk of his Nissan—they've been running both their cars too hot for the front hood to be a comfortable perch—and Dom joins him, sliding to sit beside Brian and mirroring the careless slouch of his posture.

"I'm glad you're here," Brian admits like a confession. There's a burden of feeling beneath the words, a desperate gratitude that makes Dom uncomfortable because he hasn't done anything to earn it. The lengths he's gone to for his family, the difficult prices he's paid—he doesn't resent them. Even in hindsight he can't picture a different path.

"Me too." The gravel of his own voice sounds just as raw and honest.

"Hey, Dom?"

Dom turns to look at Brian, to meet his eyes in the moonlight.

He startles when Brian kisses him, but his frozen surprise doesn't last long. Dom's got no right to touch Brian, but suddenly he's reaching for him anyway, grabbing him by the shirt front and tugging him even closer. Taking control of the tentative kiss and turning it into something greedy and hard and filthy. Staking claim to Brian's mouth even though he's got no right.

No right at all.

When they part, it's a reluctant retreat. Dom lets go, eases back so he's not crowding too close. Brian's eyes are wide, his expression open and lost. There's a tightness to his spine that says he's unsure what Dom's reaction will be but is braced for the worst.

"That was a damn stupid thing to do," Dom says at last. Because if _he_ doesn't have any right, then Brian sure as hell doesn't either. They're both of them spoken for. They don't get to fantasize about this, let alone _do_ anything about it.

"Yeah," Brian agrees, but the worst of the stiffness loosens from his spine and he slouches forward once more. "Sorry."

"What the fuck, Brian?" Dom asks, because he can't just let it go. This isn't a simple apologize-and-move-on situation.

Except Brian only shrugs. A moment later, in a strained voice, he admits, "I just wanted to see what it'd be like."

Dom doesn't have any response to that—he can't pretend he hasn't wondered the same—so he falls silent instead. Much as he rankles at holding his peace, the only smart thing is to accept Brian's apology and let the whole thing drop. The alternative is messy and complicated, not to mention a guilt trip neither one of them will be able to live with. Brian's not that guy, and Dom doesn't want to be.

"It can't happen again," he says, and means it.

"Yeah," Brian says. "I figured."

Then they both face forward and stare into the night. They pretend the quiet isn't threaded through with messy potential. They pretend the darkness isn't taut with new tension. They pretend there's any way to go back and ignore everything Brian just put between them. Maybe if they keep pretending, it will go away.

It won't. 

But Dom doesn't break the silence, and neither does Brian, as the night stretches like a perfectly kept secret around them.


End file.
